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TRUST JESUS TODAY
The world is full of people who want children but who cannot have them through natural means. This story is dedicated to them.
An Autumn Delight
By: Angie Wolf
Eddie is a mixture of Spanish and Filipino with chestnut-colored eyes and short jet black wavy hair that frames his round face. His response to every question we ask him is preceded by either “Ma’am” or “Sir”. He is a delight with a smile that would penetrate an avalanche. When we saw him at the orphanage, we immediately tripped over our emotions, fell heels over head in love with him, filed the adoption paperwork, and eventually brought him home after the required legal proceedings.
I’ve always wanted a child, but I agreed to the adoption of Eddie more for my husband, Stephano, than for me.
Today, we stand in the front of our three bedroom ranch home. The sun shines through the sky’s cracks of blue as streaks of white clouds seem to compete for its attention. Eddie, Stephano, and I. Our faces are bathed by a cool autumn breeze and the fallen golden-bronzed leaves create a blanket of warmth beneath our sneakered feet.
When Stephano was thirty-two, his paternal instincts went into overdrive and he decided to “father” three dogs, a Siamese cat, two Guinea pigs, and a weasel named Frett. Perhaps his parenting desire was due to his upbringing with five younger brothers and sisters, all of whom he was required to help parent, in one way or another.
We’d been trying to have a baby for eight years, since he was twenty-four and I was twenty-two. After each attempt, he’d say, “This is it. I just know it.” But then the pregnancy test results would prove otherwise. The minus sign always seemed like a disappointing ending of a major motion picture that we had mistakenly been led to believe would be satisfying. And then the argument came. Usually, it was initiated by me, and more often than not, it ended with my adamant proclamation that this would be the absolute last time I’d allow him to convince me to “try” again. Of course, it never was the last time, and I still have yet to conceive.
Stephano looks up at the sky and I know he is secretly thanking the Divine for His most gracious gift. “God is good,” I quietly say. “We ought to go to mass this morning. Don’t you think?” My attention suddenly focuses on the three year old brown bundle of love standing between me and Stephano. He is looking up at the sky just like his father with what can only be described as a toddler’s countenance of awe and gratitude. It is a moment that I choose not to interrupt with words or motion. I also look toward heaven and realize that it is standing right next to me in the form of a cherub, as the palm of his tiny hand touches mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eddie’s other hand touching Stephano’s and in a matter of seconds, the three of us have become one.
We are a family.
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